Texts From The Cold War
by MandNwriterzz
Summary: Natasha hates that Steve uses her for something other than sex. What does he think she is? His girlfriend? Ha. Puh-lease. Romanogers.


**Prompt: **(330): I did my patriotic duty. I woke up next to a veteran this morning.

Natasha Romanoff takes a few moments to let her smooth eyelids lay over her eyes. But then she reminds herself to get up with a chiding tone. Her eyelids are still really heavy and she was feeling extremely lightheaded, but she manages to blink off the dulling effect of sleepiness with a few flutters of her dark lashes.

With a very much suppressed yawn, the fiery haired woman rubs at her face and peers out the window through her eyelashes in a still sleepy squint.

It is most likely late afternoon, judging by the clock hanging on the wall. She absentmindedly smirks at the red, blue and white color theme of the digits and the redhead sees the fiery orange ball of the Sun sinking deep into the horizon through the single, large, ceiling to floor window, covered by the thinnest curtain, a pretty thing that Pepper must have put up. The scene is almost breathtaking, but not as breathtaking as the sight next to her.

Something warm, strong and assuring is wrapped in a circular arc around her petite and supple figure, pushing Natasha firmly against a hard and chiseled surface, thus immobilizing her against that really smooth plane she was lying on.

Her hazy thoughts start to clear. Since when are her pillows that soft and comfortable? Since when are her bed sheets and comforters that heavy and satin-y smooth and soft? And have a little American flag sewn in the corner? She shifts in the person's arms and tilts her face upwards to let her wider than usual eyes gaze at the person's face.

And she smiles. Since it's his face.

Her nose twitches with sharp realization at the scent she is currently inhaling, not the fresh scent of Tony and Pepper's homemade laundry detergent for the bed covers, but that delicious smell of his skin. Like sweat, soap and the slight, sharp and clean tang of spearmint toothpaste.

Just like Steve.

Then he's blinking open his own eyes and Natasha's emerald green orbs meet his instantly, getting lost in the mesmerizing dark cerulean blue color of his eyes the way someone would get lost in the deep ocean.

"Hey," he murmurs with that small and shy smile she loves so much. "Get a good sleep?"

She remembers how she had woken up in a cold sweat last night, her covers pooling around her. How she climbed out and padded over to Steve's room and just walked in and crawled into his bed. She liked the way how he had just sleepily and instinctively wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"Yeah," she replies. "For the first time in a while, actually."

"Great," the man says back, brushing a lock of fiery red hair out of her eyes and she reaches up to ruffle his own sandy brown spikes.

Natasha gazes at his face, which is full of a tender kind of inexplicable emotion. "What is it, Cap?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, Rogers. Haven't I told you before you're a terrible liar?"

"Several times, actually," he grins widely.

The red haired female nods her head in a stern manner. "Mmm hmm."

"Come on, then. They others will be wondering where we are." Steve is about to climb out of the covers until the red haired woman lays a hand on his muscled arm. His blue eyes look back, inquiring.

"Eh, let them wonder." With smiles on both of their faces, Steve lays back down and they continue to cuddle.

* * *

**Prompt: **(765): She's a freak. I've got the scars to prove it.

Steve Rogers stretches his long arms out over his head and doesn't even bother to cover up the huge yawn escaping his lips. He had had a very long and tiring night, if you get the meaning. He pads into the living room of Stark Tower, where Tony Stark sat on the couch, casually flipping through a celebrity gossip magazine, as usual. Bruce Banner is at the dining table, tapping a pen against his forehead and his glasses almost slipping off his nose when he bends to down to examine the load of papers in front of him. Thor is laying on his back on the couch in front of Tony for some strange reason and Clint Barton is doing his weekly polish of arrows.

"Morning," he calls out as he heads for the bar to retrieve a cup for coffee. Sensing something in an accidental undercurrent in his voice, everyone basically drops what they are doing. Tony immediately slams close the magazine and slaps it down on the table, Banner removes his glasses in curiosity, Clint lays down his arrows precisely and Thor rises to a sitting position, only to think better of it and leaps off the couch. They all zoom over to Steve in a swarm, completing their ambush.

"What happened?" demands Clint excitedly, rainwater gray blue eyes gleaming. Steve had only lifted his mug of steaming coffee to his lips, and now peers over the rim of the mug with confused blue eyes.

"What do you mean, what happened?" he repeats.

All of the other men around the bar's counter roll their eyes in sequence and groan. Banner, who is usually the non inquiring, go with the flow male of the group, replies, "That was the wrong thing to say."

"Oh, please!" exclaims Tony, waving a hand in dismissal. "How stupid do you think we are, Capsicle?"

"Uh . . ."

"Do not answer that," counters Thor angrily.

"Well?" Tony waggles his eyebrows very suggestively. "Don't hide it."

"Hide what?" Steve shrugs, fixing himself some more coffee.

"We're not dumb, Cap," the brown haired archer says.

"Well, if you're so smart, you guys don't need to be asking so many questions!" Steve says back, annoyed at all of his so called 'friends'.

"Look, let's go over the facts and information we currently have." Tony begins to tick down all of his statements on his fingers and the Captain rolls his eyes again impatiently, "One, you seem happy." Steve then notices that his lips are trying not to quirk up. Great.

"Bizarrely happy," Banner backs up.

"Suspiciously happy," the blond god next to him bows his head as well.

"Really happy," Clint says simply.

"Two," continues the dark haired billionaire, staring at everyone else annoyingly for joining in his apparently sole speech, "There are dark, baggy circles under your eyes." Steve self consciously touches a few fingers to under his eyes and remembers the shadows under them when he looked in the mirror this morning. Two points for Stark.

Tony grins, knowing that he is winning. "Three, you are fixing yourself a cup of coffee, something that you never do unless you are really worn out." Three points. "Four, you were seemingly busy all night and five," he announces with a flourish of his hand, and then reaches over before Steve can stop him to lift the Captain's shirt up all the way, "you have been marked. By several scars. Natasha sure is a freak, ain't she?"

"Uh, excuse me?!" Steve cries out, blushing furiously and everyone else laughs.

"Cap's lost the V card! High five, boys!" exclaims the archer and everyone slaps hands triumphantly. If this is what happens whenever he has sex with Natasha, Steve is going to rejoin a virginity club, even if they do not take him in for not being a virgin. But damn, he has no regrets for losing it to her.

"So, how was she?" Tony's voice whispers into Steve's ear and the soldier is so surprised he jumps ten feet in the air and accidentally spills the scalding coffee unto Clint's black leather jacket.

The archer's eyes widen to saucer size and he rips the said article of clothing off of his arms and tosses it into a heap on the ground. "Gah! Hot, hot, HOT! Rogers!" he bellows.

"Sorry," Steve calls apologetically and glares down at Tony, who is still grinning like an idiot. "No comment."

"Why?"

"Because it is none of your business," snaps Steve firmly.

"I know. That's why I want to know!"

Steve just glares again.

"So, was she okay?" Though Tony seriously doubts it because this is the Black Widow they are talking about.

"No."

"Was she good?"

"No."

"Was she awesome?" Tony keeps going, a grin stretching slowly across his lips.

"No."

"Was she fantastic?"

Steve obviously hesitates before saying, "No."

"Oh my God! She was fantastic! I knew it!"

She certainly had been. "I never said that!" Steve protests, just when the redhead enters, obviously knowing what they have all been discussing.

"Again, you're a terrible liar, Cap, but you don't need to hold back for my sake," Natasha deadpans and turns to face Steve, giving him a very suggestive and sparkling wink before going back to her breakfast.

Steve just blushes again. She's a freak and he has the scars to prove it.

* * *

**Prompt: **A version of how the girls treat the news of Natasha and Steve's first time in their relationship.

When Natasha Romanoff wakes up in her bed the next day, the late morning sunlight is streaming through her window through sheer curtains. She blinks sleepily in the bright shafts of light and stretches across the bed. She has finally been blissfully nightmare free for the first time in months.

The memories of the night before come back to the redhead's mind in a raging flood and she flushes with pleasure, beaming from ear to ear and rubbing her hands through her soft and glossy curls, even wiggling her toes down under the cotton cover. For once, she feels like a girl.

Steve had been surprisingly amazing, all tender and thoughtful, sweetly awkward at first and then so passionate as his inhibitions faded one by one. How many rounds had it been? She recounted at least five, knowing she must have given him a good time himself and looks down at her arms to see faint bruises. Despite it being his first time, he had shown quite an animal like nature the times afterwards.

It had been perfect. She lies down across her bed, smiling, for another long while, not wanting to let the memories go.

A high peal of laughter from the room across the hall floats to her door way, breaking the fiery haired woman's reverie and Natasha sits up. Right, the other women are all in Pepper's room hanging out. Rolling out of the bed, she pulls on a pair of yoga pants over her lacy panties and strides across the bathroom to open the interconnecting door to Pepper's room.

All of the women are scattered across Tony and Pepper's vast bedroom, all dressed in casual clothing. Darcy is lying on the floor, glasses discarded next to her head, night black waves fanned out across the fuzzy white carpet, her fingers texting rapidly on the keyboard of her cell phone. Maria is fixing her new top that looks really good on her in the body length mirror and is also smudging some eyeliner in the corner of her blue eyes. Jane is on the bed, dark brown hair pinned up in a bun and typing on her laptop while Pepper rises out of the bedroom, rubbing a towel through her damp hair.

"Hey," Natasha greets, sitting down on the floor next to Darcy and leans over to see who she is texting, but the black haired girl turns the phone away, a hand covering the screen protectively.

"Good morning to you, Agent Romanoff," Maria replies back in a fake stern voice and gestures to the table next to her. "I brought you back your glass slippers. And some sustenance." She points at a ceramic mug filled with dark coffee and a pair of strappy gold high heels that Natasha had abandoned in the living room when she and Steve had . . .

"Thanks," she says, interrupting her own thoughts. Taking the coffee mug gratefully, she sips on the drink, ignoring the very hot taste.

"Are you okay?" Pepper asks, concerned. "I didn't see you last night. I heard you had a fight with Steve a couple of days ago. Did you make up with him?" Her pale blue eyes are inquiring and Natasha is trying very hard not to even let out a ghost of a smile.

"Uh, yeah." But she can't keep it up and instead hides her face behind her coffee mug, her cheeks almost burning with a blush. She notices out of the corner of her eye that Maria's eyes are narrowing suspiciously.

"Natasha," she starts slowly. "Is there anything you'd like to tell us?" Even before the question is finished, Maria has a wicked smile slowly stretching her lips, a mischievous light glinting in her ocean blue orbs. Jane looks up from her laptop with curiosity blooming in her dark brown doe eyes, Pepper hangs the towel up, eyes never leaving the redhead's face and even Darcy slides her cell phone closed, looking up expectantly with dark blue eyes.

"Is she, like, giddy or what?" Darcy asks the other females in the room, who are trying to suppress their giggles.

"I'd say she definitely made up with Steve okay," grins Pepper eagerly.

Natasha brings her knees up to her chest and beams through her glowing cheeks. The black haired woman next to her sits up and pokes her vigorously and repeatedly in the side. "Talk, woman!" Darcy demands.

"Okay, okay, okay!" Natasha relents, waving her hands around and pushing Darcy's away. How the hell is she supposed to put this? "Steve and I . . . We, um . . . Well, you guys obviously get what I'm talking about," she finally admits with her hands planted on her hips and even though her sentence trails off, it doesn't matter and at first there is silence.

Still, total, deafening silence.

Then the room is roiling with loud and mirthful laughter, giggles and shrieks of excitement. Natasha ducks away from them, fending off their demands for details. "Use your imagination, ladies!" she responds simply and adamantly.

Maria is the only one who sits forward now. She smirks widely and then deadpans, "You so don't want us to do that."

"Great, am I still the only virgin here?" Darcy complains genuinely and everyone laughs again.

* * *

**Prompt: **(720): Had sex five times today because there was nothing else to do. I had no idea snow days could get even better.

Natasha lies back down on the floor with a heavy and deep sigh, gasping for breath. "I must admit, Cap," she says in a low voice. "You're getting better and better at this."

"Nat, this is the fifth time we've slept together today," Steve half heartedly complains, looking almost distastefully at the redhead, who just grins and nuzzles her nose into his neck.

"Whatever."

Right now, they are lying on the floor of the Stark vacation cabin. Outside the window, they could see snowflakes twirling and gliding around the air. There is a thick blanket covering the whole ground outside and blocks the door from opening fully, so all of the Avengers are stuck inside. Coming out there for a winter vacation ski trip, Tony had been pretty disappointed at this and retreated into his room with Pepper while Thor, Banner and Clint are doing their own activities in their rooms, everyone blissfully unaware of the spy and the soldier constantly making love on the floor.

The red haired woman fixes the wool pitch black colored blanket that has been thrown across them in between sessions. She then places her hand on Steve's warm and bare chest, feeling his steady heartbeat pound against her fingertips. Her long fiery locks fan out behind her and she absentmindedly drums her fingers against his toned chest.

The sandy haired men notices her contemplating silence and skims his fingers against her soft hair. "Hey," he murmurs lightly, giving her a reassuring smile that makes him look so attractive that she just has to at least give one quirk of her lips before falling back down. "What are you thinking?" he inquires thoughtfully.

"Wouldn't you like to know," replies the red haired female quietly. Their naked bodies press even closer together.

"I would," the Captain nods genuinely.

"Just thinking that snow days can't get even better than this," she explains, reaching a hand up and hooking her finger around the stem of a wineglass and bringing the burgundy colored liquid to her soft and pink Cupid's bow shaped mouth.

"You're damn right," he agrees and she smiles at the memory of when he had said that before because she had gotten them nearly killed by the grenade of that French villain whose name she had forgotten after all of these months.

Their lips meet in a kiss and Natasha momentarily pulls away. "Mm, Rogers," she smiles, tapping his nose. "Becoming the naughty one, eh?"

"You know what? We should stop."

"There's no chance in hell, Steve," she growls and throws the large blanket over the whole bodies again.

* * *

**Prompt: **(775): She called to say her plane was running late and I had 30 minutes to get to the airport for bathroom sex.

Steve misses Natasha. Really badly. So when his cell phone rings and he sees her name and that little picture of her in mid laugh, her mane of fiery red curls framing her face flashing across the screen, he immediately snatches it up off the coffee table in front of the couch and clicks the answer button.

"Hello?" he says in a normal tone, plopping down onto the couch on his back.

"You missing me, Cap?" He hears through the receiver her flirtatious and seductive voice and a slight smirk is quirking his lips.

"Not really," he replies.

"Uh huh."

"How's your flight?" Steve's eyebrows furrow together in confusion for a moment. "I thought you couldn't call from your phone on an airplane."

"That's because I'm not on the airplane," Natasha confirms simply and bluntly, making Steve even more confused. "The plane's running late, my flight's delayed."

"Meaning?" He can sense there's another message in her words.

"Isn't this the part where you ask me what I'm wearing?"

"Uh, why? I know what you were wearing." A green leather jacket, black stocking and brown hiking boots.

"It's called phone sex, Rogers."

"Yippee. Another unnecessary thing to add to my list of things I did not need to know," he adds sarcastically and he hears Natasha chuckle.

"No, silly," she laughs, most likely flipping her red mane of hair over her shoulder. "Since my flight will be here in most probably in an hour, I was wondering if you could make a little trip to the airport. You know, swing by for a visit?"

"Why? You're going on a business conference, so I'll see you in two days."

Steve hears the red haired female lowly groan into the receiver, which means he isn't getting what she's implying. "No, Steve. I'm inviting you to come over to the airport for some official S.H.I.E.L.D business." She is stressing so much force into the last four words that Steve is blanking out on his code translations.

"Okay . . ."

"Jesus, Rogers!" she exclaims in exasperation. "I'm calling you near the sinks in the bathroom, alone. So we can do something important."

"Oh!" he finally enjoins, getting the picture now, but instead lies back down on the couch. "No, Tasha. I think you can wait for a couple of hours."

"Why, aren't you bored?"

Steve smirks in a wry fashion. "Have we turned into one of those couples that have sex when they have nothing better to do?"

"I hope so," Natasha giggles.

"Again-"

"Don't you want to?"

"Of course I would like to have sex, but unlike you, I'm patient," Steve retorts angrily, having enough of Natasha's nagging. But then he turns his head to his side at the flicker of an instinct and his eyes gape open at the sight of Clint standing right next to him, apparently hearing the last thing he said. He blushes and turns away before he can see the mischief and the burst of laughter from the archer behind him.

"If you don't, Rogers, I'm not coming back from the conference," threatens the woman on the other end of the line.

"I'm on my way."

And just two hours later, Steve is watching Natasha's plane soaring off into the fluffy depths of the white clouds and walking out of the airport, he passes the women's bath room, and self conciously, rubs at something on the corner of his mouth which looks suspiciously like crimson red lipstick.

* * *

**Prompt: **(270): I'm pretty sure I have a cold now from having sex on the hood of my car in the rain. Worth it? Absolutely.

Natasha sniffles for the millionth time today. Wads of cotton white tissues are stacked up in the black netted basket in the corner of the living room. She has recently dipped herself into a steaming hot shower to raise her body temperature but her cold had come back anyway.

Meanwhile, she glares at the man sitting in front of her, who's smiling bashfully and sheepishly. "This is all your fault," she accuses.

"Sorry," Steve says once more after saying the word so many times it has no meaning anymore. "But weren't you the one who started it?"

"How dare you accuse me of starting it?" the redhead retorts. Last night, it had rained and despite very bad weather conditions, they had decided to make love on top of their silver Mercedes, or was it Sam's? Either way, they are both screwed, both terms speaking.

Steve, being the super soldier, had taken the lead to shield the female from the worst of the rain and again, being a super soldier, hasn't suffered any consequences yet. Lucky bastard.

"I need medicine," grumbles Natasha as she rises from the couch to measure out a few millimeters of dark colored liquid that has the most horrible taste she has ever tasted, but the cold is worth it.

She turns and smiles over at the Captain, signalling that all is forgiven.

* * *

**Prompt: **(856): Hooking up with him was lovely.. but waking up in his bed the next morning and finding double stuffed oreos . . . I mean . . . I won.

A certain redhead is lying flat on her stomach on Captain America's bed, the bed sheets pooling around her in a sea of dark creases, her face buried deep into the soft pillow to block out annoying rays of hot and golden sunlight and her clothes scattered all of ther floor. She raises a bare arm to slam down the button of the alarm clock beside her and the trill of the beeps cease into the air.

Natasha sits up and runs a hand down her fiery curls, trying to smooth the craziness down and blinks her eyes several times to adjust to the light and shake off the drowsiness. She peers around the room curiously, but there is no sign of Steve Rogers.

Then something on the bedside table beside her catches her eye. She reaches to her side to latch a hand onto a long, dark aqua blue tube lying on its side on the table. It is Double Stuffed Oreos, her favorite candy. And only one person knows that. On the side, a yellow sticky note is pinned on there and a single line is scrawled on the piece of paper in blue ballpoint pen ink:

_No candy is as sweet as you._

The line is totally cheesy and most likely borrowed from somewhere, but the fiery haired female just bursts out laughing, her body shaking with mirth and flops back down on the mattress, peeling open the packet and munching on a cookie.

Last night had been awesome, but this treat is simply heavenly. Natasha, for once, feels whole again, like she always does with Steve around and that is when the sandy haired man enters through the door way, wearing a tight and white undershirt, that till shows off his toned muscles. A slight smirk tilts the corners of her lips up and she raises the packet up high.

"Really, Cap?" Natasha questions through another mouthful of cookie, which he grins at.

"I thought you'd like it," Steve shrugs nonchalantly, sitting on the side of the bed next to her. He stretches out a hand to extract a cookie from the packet, but Natasha just snatches it back, clutching it protectively to her side.

"Back off, Rogers," she growls in a low voice, scooting away. "My precious."

Soon, it is a tug of war with the packet of candy and suddenly, the packet tears and Oreo cookies fly all through the air, landing on the bed in spots and specks, crumbs dotting starkly against the bedspread. Then they are laughing and Natasha presses both of her hands to his cheeks.

"You got that line from Stark, didn't you?" she smirks and he sheepishly beams back, blushing.

"Yeah," he replies and she giggles as they fall back into bed together.

* * *

**Prompt: **(818): I hate that he uses me for something other than sex. What does he think I am? His girlfriend? Ha.

Natasha has absolutely no clue why she is accompanying Steve in the first place. Here she is, sitting in the passenger seat of the small silver car, focusing intently on the road, but her emerald eyes just have to keep flicking back over to view his beaming space.

Natasha hates how Steve uses her for something other than sex. What does he think she is? His girlfriend? Ha. Puh-lease.

They had slept together for a while after their Washington D.C. mission, but Steve still likes dragging her out of Stark Tower to do things that are not sex related. Like going out to get groceries, or take a run in the park, or even grab an ice cream when they get bored. Why the hell does she let him do this?

"I'm really glad you came to that baseball game with me," Steve is thanking her tremendously and can't keep the grin of his face since his favorite team won the Championship. Again. Natasha sighs and tries not to look at him.

"No problem, Cap," she mumbles back, brushing back a tendril of straight red hair.

Her hand is laying flat and idle on the console, tapping away at the leather furiously, looking for something to do and then Steve reaches down a hand, the other still firmly gripping the steering wheel, to lace and twist his own fingers around her excited ones. The red haired woman looks down at their clasped hands for a moment, admiring the way his long and nimble digits were curved so perfectly against hers and then she raises her head to meet his cerulean blue orbs, which are sparkling with tenderness at her and he's smiling that smile that makes him so damn attractive, the one which makes her watch his lips carefully, one corner tipping up before the other . . .

She wrenches her fingers out of his hand and turns her head away, shoving down the patch of hot red that is slowly climbing up her neck and warming and prickling her skin. She hears him groan lightly behind her.

"Look, Nat," he starts, but she spins back abruptly with a glower deep in her eyes.

"I'm not your girlfriend," she snaps bluntly and brusquely and he's almost taken by surprise, cringing a bit.

"I know," replies Steve unsurely. "I never said that."

"Well, don't treat me like your girlfriend," suggests Natasha. "You're always taking me out everywhere when I don't really have to go-"

"Then why do you go?" he asks in between her words and she freezes for a moment, not able to find a right word.

"I . . ." the redhead trails off and focuses her gaze back out the windshield before saying, "I don't know!"

"Okaaay," Steve says slowly, also looking out the windshield glass.

"Look, I'm pretty sure I'm not your girlfriend, because all we ever do is have sex, right?"

"Well, yeah, but that's occasional-"

Her blue green orbs are narrowing smaller and smaller. "What's the difference?"

"Stark said that you would stomp all over my heart in nine inch heeled boots," Steve murmurs simply, glancing at her with almost anxious blue eyes. Natasha sits back and contemplates his words.

"He's damn right," is all she says before the car is silent again. Once they halt at a stoplight, Steve shifts around in his seat to face her fully.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For making you uncomfortable."

"It's not!" she denies, avoiding his intense gaze. "I'm always trying to find you a girlfriend! I mean, I don't get why you don't date that agent, Sharon Carter. She's kind, beautiful, smart, strong-"

"You want to know why I don't want to date her?" Steve challenges and she catches a glimpse of him through the corner of her verdigris blue green eye.

"Why?"

"She's not you." With those three words, the universe stops and time is frozen. Steve says lowly, "You're a heartbreaker, Natasha Romanoff, but I'll definitely take my chances."

"Oh, I don't know," Natasha says once more and just when the green light flashes, she rises form her seat momentarily to peck a long and slow kiss on his smooth cheek. "Maybe you'll break my heart, Cap."

* * *

**Prompt: **(269): Lots of explosions. Minor nudity. Full penetration and lots of tuxedos.

An explosion gives off in another corner of the casino, the fumes of gray tinged with fiery orange smoke spilling everywhere, and more people clad in tuxedos scuttle everywhere, high pitched shrieks and scream ripping through the air. Natasha Romanoff hobbles over to an overturned sofa and crouches behind it, only to meet Steve Roger's navy blue eyes.

"You okay?" he calls over the noise and she glances over her shoulder at her back, which is slightly hot. She winces at the sight of the many holes spotting the back of her tuxedo shirt and pants and the many cuts and scrapes lining her skin. The redhead proceeds to peel off the suit and Steve immediately turns around.

"Whoa, Nat!" he shouts. "What are you doing?"

"Survival, Cap," she exclaims back, wiping soot off her pale and bare skin. Her undergarments are still intact, so the sandy haired Captain beside her whips off his own tuxedo jacket and hands it to her. She threds her arms in and buttons two buttons in front through their loop holes. The jacket's hem floats above her knee caps and she silently curses how tall her boyfriend is.

"I got my winnings!" Tony Stark cries out in triumph as he leaps over the sofa and shows the two other Avengers the huge sack in his hands. "Isn't Vegas the best? Viva Las Vegas!" Tony announces over the ruckus to no one in particular. The couple wince and Steve glares at the irresponsible billionaire.

"Stark, people are dying!" he protests and snatches the bag before Tony can think and flings over the side, setting off another mini bomb. Natasha and Steve duck for a second, but the dark haired man next to them is staring after his gold in shock and horror stored in his features.

"My winnings," he whimpers, but is interrupted by Natasha.

"Hey, kid, eyes on the road!" she yells over the noise at a gangly teenager checking out her bare legs and he scurries off at her ferocious glare. She waves her arm in another big sweep at another man. "Yeah, the world is ending, keep moving!"

"You can't blame them, Romanoff," counters Tony, managing to catch a glimpse before Steve punches his arm hard. "OW!"

"Guys, we have to-" Clint Barton commands before stopping dead in his tracks at Natasha's minor nudity. "What the hell are you wearing, Natasha?"

"Shut up, Legolas!" Tony says as he rises. "You're with me. Let's avenge my winnings!"

"Stark!" everyone verbally attacks the billionaire, who cringes.

"Hey, we are called the Avengers, right?" He and Clint run off, leaving Steve and Natasha together again. Standing up, Steve flings all of his throwing knives at the black clothing clad enemies firing at them, missing every innocent pedestrian while the redhead, whose back is pressed against his, fires off tons of bullets, the bullet casings clattering to the ground.

"Are you sure you can fight like that?" Steve calls to Natasha behind him, mentally gesturing to her current state of dress.

"Hell, yeah, Rogers!" the fiery haired woman answers back, still shooting the guns in each of her hands. "I've been in way worse conditions! Plus, it gives me access to my weapon thigh sheaths." To put emphasis, she slips out a blade and stabs it into the adversary that had been charging toward her. "This is fun, right?"

"'Fun' is not exactly the word I would use for it."

Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha notices a small object flying toward them. "Incoming!" she shouts in warning, and Steve wraps a strong arm around her waist to tuck her away between his body and his shield, and as the explosion booms again, Natasha's eyes fly open, not at the rumbling of the grenade's bombing, but at the bulge in Steve's pants, which was kind of awkward since she is sitting right on top of it.

"Someone's excited, aren't they?" she quips down at him with a smirk and he retorts back,

"Get off of me!"

Another explosion and Natasha is thrust harder against his body for protection, which she now needs since she feels something hard and long enter her . . . unit.

"Steve!" she growls into his ear, the name melting into a moan of deep pleasure, digging her nails into his back. Damn, this is becoming even better by the minute.

"Damn it! We're having impromptu sex on a mission," he grumbles, though enjoying it himself very much due to his own low and long moans of pleasure. But they need to stop, Steve throwing her off of him finally, so that they can climb to their feet and head for the door way, taking down any enemy in their path. The casino is now thankfully empty, but the enemies are still firing rapidly at them. Outside, Steve grabs a stray Wal Mart shopping cart and the scantily clad redhead leaps in. They are running, dodging bullets and Natasha groans.

"Las Vegas officially sucks," she states firmly and Steve takes that as a chance.

"Las Vegas sucks!" he calls over his shoulder at the still firing squad and that triggers more bullet fire and another explosion dotting the far side of the parking lot. Captain America hooks his feet around the cart as he gain momentum and they glide down the parking lot.

His redhead spy girlfriend whirls around to face them, face glowing with pride. "Espionage, secrets, sex and gambling," she lists with a grin. "All of my favorite things." Steve smirks back for a moment.

"The third thing wasn't exactly supposed to happen," he replies back quickly and that makes her beam widely.

"That's what makes it special."

"Oh, I love you." The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them and Natasha's beautiful blue eyes widen fractionally before she smirks.

"I know," she replies and leans in to kiss him.

"And that's basically how our summer vacation went," Steve concludes and everyone in front of them is staring with wide and gaping eyes and their jaws hanging open off their hinges.

"That was so . . ." Hill trails off for a moment.

"Romantic!" gushes Jane.

"Awesome," breathes out Darcy.

"Very invigorating," Pepper states and Hill just has to nod at their very fantastic sounding summer.

"Mmm hmm," agrees Natasha, who is sitting next to Steve.

"Dude, she totally Han Solo-ed you!" Tony barks out laughing and the rest of the guys join in, since that's probably their only comment of the adventure, Natasha leans back and ruffles a hand through Steve's golden hair.

"Yeah, just wait until our honeymoon, Cap," she exclaims happily and everyone freezes.

"What?!"

The shouts of joy and groans of despair, mainly from Tony were heard throughout the whole building.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own anything. Prompts taken from chalantness's tumblr. Thanks, Chanty. Review or favorite, your choice. And stay tuned for my new Romanogers/Pepperony/Bucky x Darcy story coming out!**


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